


It's Not the Size of the Sword, it's How You Swing It

by Prudabaga



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: And he doesn't even realize it, Crack, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Jaskier is hung, M/M, Multi, Size Kink, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23248735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prudabaga/pseuds/Prudabaga
Summary: “Huh. I thought you would be bigger.”Gerald paused, halfway through lowering himself into his bath, and stared at Jaskier. “What?”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 295
Kudos: 1912





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I watched the witcher tv show, and it ate my brain. Had the worst time writing Jaskier instead of Dandelion though--eventually just had to do a find and replace, lol.

“Huh. I thought you would be bigger.”

Gerald paused, halfway through lowering himself into his bath, and stared at Jaskier. “What?”

Jaskier gave Geralt’s crotch another contemplative look, then shrugged. “You’re the big hero, you know? Always sweeping all the women off their feet. I just thought there’d be… you know, more. Not that what you have is bad or anything,” he continued hurriedly as he caught sight of Geralt’s face.

“Jaskier-”

“Don’t glare at me like that--you know I won’t tell anyone,” said Jaskier. He gave Geralt a conspiratorial wink. “It’d hurt my reputation as much as it would yours, what with my raunchy ballad having taken off so spectacularly. Wouldn’t want the adoring public thinking I’d gotten my facts wrong, now would I?”

Gerald felt his left eye twitch. It had started to do that recently, usually when Jaskier was around. “You wrote a raunchy ballad about me?”

“Oh, you hadn’t heard it yet? I’m surprised—it’s really quite popular at brothels. Now, before you get mad, I really am quite flattering in my descriptions. Besides, ‘Hard as a rock, the Witcher’s proportionally sized cock’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“Stop being an ass. I’m not proportionally sized.” 

Jaskier frowned at him. “Come now, buck up. You’re not _that_ small.”

“I meant that I’m bigger than that,” Geralt snapped.

“Oh. Sure. Of course you are,” said Jaskier, turning his attention back to his bags. “Now, I have some of the chamomile rub that you liked so much last time. I can get your shoulders, though I may not have enough for your hair. I do have this one soap from the last town we passed through, though, and if the merchant was honest it should really give those lice a run for their money.“

Jaskier continued to chatter, gathering up hygiene products as Geralt slowly lowered himself the rest of the way into the tub. 

Geralt wasn’t self conscious about his body. He’d never had reason to be. He’d seen enough men naked—Kaer Morhen didn’t exactly have changing rooms, and the life he’d lead on the Path hadn’t had much in the way of privacy—that he had a pretty solid basis for comparison. He _knew_ he was big.

Wasn’t he?

“Yennefer thinks I’m big,” he muttered as Jaskier massaged lotion into his back.

“I’m sure she does,” said Jaskier, patting him gently on the shoulder. “I’m sure she does.”

* * *

As a Witcher, Geralt was above petty concerns like physical appearance. His purpose was to kill monsters—it didn’t matter if he was handsome, or if he was covered in scars, or if certain parts of his anatomy were big or not. If he was going to brood, which he definitely wasn’t, it was going to be on the dark nature of humanity, not on whether or not his cock was big enough. 

Besides, his lovers had always seemed impressed. They’d certainly never complained about his performance. Though looking back, quite a few of them had been doing it for money, and in hindsight acting thrilled was probably part of the job. 

But Yennifer had seemed equally thrilled, and she wouldn’t lie to make him feel good. Of everyone he’d ever slept with, he felt certain he could trust her to tell him the brutal truth.

Still...

“Do you think my cock is big?” he asked her at their next meeting. They’d just finished a few hours of enthusiastic fucking, during which he’d watched her face closely. From this distance he could hear her heartbeat (fast, strong, and consistent with high arousal), and she hadn’t _seemed_ like she was faking it—but with Yen, you could never tell.

She squinted at him, her purple eyes slowly sharpening out of their pleasured daze and into a kind of incredulous irritation. “What did you just ask me?”

“Is my cock big?” 

Yen stared at him for a minute. Geralt tried not to fidget. 

“You’re serious?” she said. “You cannot be self-conscious about how you measure up—even you aren’t that dense. What’s this really about?”

“Just answer the question,” said Geralt.

“Why? Was the panting and moaning not enough? Not all of your partners are going to compose ballads to your cock, you know. We’re not all Jaskier.”

Geralt groaned. “You’ve heard that ballad?”

“What, ‘The Witcher’s Third Sword’? Everyone’s heard it. And if that wasn’t able to placate your ego, I don’t think anything I say will be enough. Jaskier was very...thorough, not to mention poetic, with his descriptions of you.”

Geralt raised himself to his elbows to peer down at her. “But does the song seem accurate to you?” 

“You know, most of my lovers just cuddle afterwards. Interrogating me about your member’s measurements is a novel approach to post-coital relations, I’ll grant you that, but I’m not sure it does much for the mood.”

“ _Yen_.”

She sighed. “Fine. The part about it being the biggest of your swords is definitely a stretch, and I find it difficult to believe that you used it to bludgeon a drowner to death-”

“He said I did _what_?”

“-and I know for a fact that you aren’t able to come that many times in a row—but the general spirit of the song is right.”

Geralt flopped back onto the mattress, relief warring with outrage. “A drowner? Really?”

“That part usually gets a round of applause, actually.”

Geralt was going to kill Jaskier next time their paths crossed. But it was good to know that Geralt’s past lovers hadn’t just been blowing smoke up his ass when they’d complimented him on his size.

That still left the question of what Jaskier’s problem with him was.

Yennefer was giving him that piercing look—the one that promised that the conversation wasn’t over yet. Geralt had known her long enough that he didn’t bother to fight it.

“Jaskier said that I wasn’t big,” he admitted.

That earned him a laugh. “Really? Then he clearly hasn’t seen you yet. Odd, I’d have put money on you having bedded him already.”

“We haven’t fucked,” said Geralt, “but he has seen me. I was bathing, and he was getting chamomile lotion to rub into my back-”

“You’re _sure_ you haven’t fucked?”

“-and he saw me and, well,” Geralt paused, shrugging. “He wasn’t impressed.”

“And that bothers you?”

“...No.” 

“Geralt,” Yen said, in a voice that was as close to kind as she ever got. “We just finished having phenomenal sex, the duration of which you apparently spent obsessing over what Jaskier thought of your dick.”

“Okay, maybe it bothers me a bit.”

“Trust me on this. I’ve had enough male lovers to know that you’re well endowed, and I _know_ you’ve seen enough other men that we shouldn’t have had to have this conversation. But Jaskier—does he sleep with other men? Or mainly women?”

Geralt shrugged.

“Well, if he sticks to women, maybe he doesn’t have many points for comparison.”

“He has himself,” said Geralt slowly, realization dawning even as he said the words.

Yen nodded thoughtfully. “Makes you wonder what kind of sword he’s swinging, doesn’t it?”

* * *

Geralt tried not to think about it. He really did. But the next time he and Jaskier traveled together, it was hard not to search for signs. 

Direct questioning didn’t work. 

“Have you seen many cocks?” Geralt asked one morning when Jaskier joined him for breakfast.

Jaskier blinked at him, eyes still half-closed and fuzzy with sleep. “Have I seen what now?”

“Cocks.”

Jaskier blinked again.

“Dicks,” Geralt clarified. “Penises. How much experience do you have?”

“Er,” said Jaskier. His eyes were wide open now, finally awake, though he still looked confused. “I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ve been with plenty of women.”

“But no men?”

“Oh! Oh. Well.” Jaskier sat down across from Geralt and pulled out some jerky. He turned it over in his hands a few times before taking a bite, seemingly reluctant to look Geralt in the eye. “We’re actually going to have the conversation, huh? Stone-cold sober, first thing in the morning? Okay, no, that’s fine. I mean, I’m not opposed being with men in theory-"

“But you haven’t yet.”

Jaskier blushed. “No.”

“Not at all? Pretty common to lend a friend a hand when there are no women around.”

Jaskier choked on his jerky. Geralt slapped him on the back a few times until the coughing stopped.

After a few minutes Jaskier had recovered enough to shake his head. “I haven’t done that,” he said, weakly. His face was beet red, though from the embarrassment or the coughing, Geralt couldn’t tell. 

“Really?” Geralt frowned. “But you have seen other guys naked before, right? Not just in bed. In the bathhouse, or while taking a leak. Just to see how you compare.”

“Geralt! What kind of question is that?” 

“Hm,” said Geralt, before walking away to pack up camp, leaving Jaskier spluttering behind him.

* * *

The blush hadn’t only been from the coughing, Geralt discovered. It persisted throughout the day, returning in force whenever Geralt caught Jaskier’s eye. 

* * *

Trying to catch a glimpse wasn’t working well, either. 

Jaskier had an infuriating habit of modestly turning away when they were changing clothes. He also seemed to have a sixth sense for when Geralt was trying to sneak a peek. Whenever Geralt looked in his direction, Jaskier would inevitably glance over his shoulder and catch his eye. And then the blushing would start all over again.

Geralt tried slinking around to the side to get a better view once, but got caught before he could spot anything more than a pale hipbone.

“Gods, Geralt! Buy a fellow dinner first, will you?” Jaskier had said, scandalized, as he turned away to shield himself. 

Bathing time wasn’t any more fruitful. Jaskier tended to avoid the cold streams and lakes that Geralt made use of while traveling—something about them having ice and drowners in them—and no amount of coaxing would get him to change his mind. After a couple weeks with no luck, Geralt caved and bought them rooms at one of the nicer inns in a town they were passing through. Not that the bar was set high (Geralt was pretty sure the other inn that they’d passed doubled as the town’s jail) but it looked like a place where Geralt could order Jaskier a hot bath.

“I may have to stay at the inn with all the bars in the windows,” said Jaskier, looking around at the well kept, nicely decorated interior. He patted his coin purse, which didn’t clink as much as it probably should have. “Our travels together are great for my songs, but not so much for my wallet, I’m afraid. I’ll meet you in the morning at-”

“I’ll cover you,” said Geralt. 

Jaskier looked at him in wonder, his eyes round. “Really?”

Geralt grunted and went to order their dinners and room. For a few extra coins, the innkeeper was happy to agree to have a bath piping hot and ready after their meal had finished.

The dinner ended up being as nice as the inn that was serving it. Or at least, it was better than most of the food Geralt came across. There were generous servings of chicken, a pile of vegetables that looked somewhat fresh, and two tankards of beer. Fresh bread and honey made up desert. Jaskier inhaled his portion at impressive speeds, especially considering he didn’t stop talking the entire time.

Usually Geralt was loath to spend coin on unnecessary luxuries, but sitting in the warmth of the fire, drinking good beer, and watching Jaskier chatter happily away—his cheeks flushed with pleasure and alcohol—made for one of the better evenings that Geralt could recall. 

They sat for a while after the food was gone, just basking in the feeling of being warm and having full bellies. Before long, though, Jaskier was reaching for his lute.

“Wait.”

Jaskier frowned at him. “What?”

“I’ve got a bath waiting upstairs,” said Geralt.

Understanding dawned on Jaskier’s face. “And you want me to rub lotion on you. Sure. You get started, and I’ll join you after a song or two. Gotta earn my keep!”

“The bath is for you.”

Jaskier stared at him.

Geralt shrugged. “We got that last Wyvern commission because of your songs,” he said. “Just wanted to say thanks.”

It wasn’t untrue—Jaskier’s songs had been bringing in more work at higher rates—even if that wasn’t his primary motivation in all this. Maybe it should have been, though, he thought as he watched Jaskier’s face split into a huge grin.

“Why Geralt, you’re such a gentleman!” Jaskier said. “You hide it well, but there’s chivalry buried beneath all those scowls, I can tell.”

“Go take your bath, bard,” Geralt said, but Jaskier was already bouncing away. 

He paused halfway up the stairs when he noticed Geralt was only a few steps behind him. “Er, did you order two baths?”

“No.”

“Headed to bed early?”

“No.”

“...Okay, then,” Jaskier said, giving Geralt an uncertain look.

Geralt had planned for this, though. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small vial of massage oil he’d bought in the last town. “You always help me relax after a contract. Thought I’d return the favor.”

“Oh! Oohhh. Wow. I see. With the dinner, and the room, and the bath...” Jaskier blushed. “That’s some thanks.”

“Earn a lot more coin with you around,” Geralt admitted. 

“And this is your way of paying me back,” said Jaskier. “Alright. Okay. So long as you want to. You want to, right? Silly question, you wouldn’t offer if you didn’t want to, I know.” He nodded to himself, visibly summoning his courage, and squared his shoulders. “Okay. This is fine, I can work with this.”

“Great,” said Geralt, and nudged him forward from the step he was frozen on.

Jaskier’s blush persisted up the rest of the stairs and into the room. If anything, it deepened when faced with the tub and with the candles that the innkeeper had so thoughtfully lit and arranged around the room.

The oil Geralt had gotten wasn’t anything like the chamomile lotion that Jaskier used on him, but the vendor he’d bought it from had assured him that it would be perfect for relaxing massages. He poured a portion onto his hands and rubbed it between his fingers, testing the slickness. It seemed silky enough, and had a pleasantly mild smell that reminded Geralt of wildflowers.

Jaskier was staring at his fingers, seemingly mesmerized. 

“Bath’s getting cold,” said Geralt.

“Wouldn’t this be easier out of the water?”

“No. The bath’s heat will help loosen your muscles.” 

Jaskier swallowed. “Right,” he said, his voice hoarse.

As always, he turned around to undress, but Geralt wasn’t worried. Positioned as he was across the tub, he was guaranteed to finally— _finally_ —get a view as Jaskier got in. And then his curiosity would be satisfied, and he could move on with his life without intrusive thoughts about Jaskier plaguing him. 

When Jaskier turned around, though, Geralt realized he may have miscalculated. 

He wasn’t going to be ridding his mind of _that_ anytime soon.

And honestly, Jaskier’s impressive (bordering on ridiculous) size wasn’t all that was going to be stuck in his head. Jaskier’s blush went deeper than Geralt had initially thought. Without any clothes in the way, Geralt could see that the flush spread down beyond his neck, onto his chest, trailing down…

Now every time Jaskier blushed, all Geralt would be able to think about was all that flesh turning delicate pink, heating, and-

Jaskier coughed pointedly.

Geralt may have been staring.

Jaskier climbed awkwardly into the bath, eyeing Geralt’s expression nervously. “Were you going to join me?”

“Right,” said Geralt. The massage. He’d almost forgotten about it, and now putting his hands all over Jaskier’s skin seemed like both a terrible and a wonderful idea. 

He steeled himself, poured a bit more oil onto his hands, then approached the side of the bath.

Jaskier’s expression was tense. Geralt moved his hands to Jaskier’s shoulders, then up to the sides of his neck, trying to mimic what Jaskier had always done for him. Jaskier’s hands were dexterous and strong in a way Geralt’s weren’t, though, and he couldn’t help but feel bumbling. 

If he was being clumsy, Jaskier didn’t seem to mind. After a few minutes, he began to relax, and a few minutes after that, as Geralt worked down from his shoulder to his arm and hand, Jaskier began to let out little sighs and moans.

“Ah, right there—yes!” Jaskier made a noise that Geralt was pretty sure would be considered overly erotic even by brothel standards.

Geralt gritted his teeth, and focused on rubbing the tension out of Jaskier’s wrists and fingers, trying to ignore how soft his skin was.

“Ooh, yeah.” Another moan. “Harder.”

Geralt rearranged himself discreetly.

“This was a great idea,” Jaskier said, eyes closed, as Geralt moved to the other arm.

Geralt wasn’t so sure it was. For one, he was going to have a difficult time walking away from this without Jaskier noticing the evidence of how much it was affecting him. 

Geralt didn’t want to think about how Jaskier would react to that. Geralt was having a difficult enough time reacting to it himself. He’d known that Jaskier was handsome, of course—he wasn’t blind—and Geralt had felt, and acted on, attraction to men before. But seeing _Jaskier_ like this was new. Up until now he’d thought of Jaskier as a friend, though he’d always admired Jaskier’s playful smile, and warm eyes, and lithe figure, and-

Okay, maybe this wasn’t as new as he’d thought.

“I appreciate your thoroughness, but this is about as loose and relaxed as I can get,” Jaskier said with a small laugh as Geralt finished massaging his palm. “Unless you want me to fall asleep in here, I think I should move to the bed now.”

He turned and gave Geralt a soft smile, his eyes dark and lidded.

It was too much. Geralt turned away quickly before Jaskier could catch a glimpse of the substantial tent in his trousers.

“Good idea. We have an early start tomorrow,” said Geralt, before heading out the door to find a cold bucket of water to douse himself with. 

* * *

For someone who’d had a big meal, a warm bath, and a massage, Jaskier was surprisingly grouchy the next morning.


	2. Chapter 2

“So I think I might want Jaskier,” Geralt said the next time he and Yennefer met up. 

They were at a tavern this time. Geralt and Jaskier were there to pick up some new contracts, and Yen was there to...well, who knew why Yen was there. She’d tell them if and when she felt like it. Across the room, Jaskier was playing one of his adventure ballads, and a large pile of coins and admirers was beginning to collect in front of him.

Yen looked unimpressed with Geralt’s declaration. “And how many weeks of obsessing about his cock did it take for you to figure that out?”

“About three.”

“Hm,” said Yen. “That’s less than I’d have guessed. You saw it, didn’t you?”

Geralt nodded glumly.

“And?” Yen asked, impatient now. “Well?”

“I understand why he thinks I’m small.”

Yen’s eyes widened, and she gave Jaskier a slow, thoughtful once-over.

“Have you ridden it yet?” she asked.

“What?”

“You haven’t,” said Yen, smirking. “You want to, though.”

Geralt glared at her, but didn’t bother to deny it. “Doesn’t matter. Don’t even know if he thinks of me like that.” He took a big gulp of his beer and tried not to sulk. From Yen’s knowing look, he wasn’t successful. 

“Bet you a hundred oren I ride it first.”

The beer came back up through Geralt’s nose. “Yen!”

“Well?”

“You scare the shit out of him,” Geralt felt obliged to point out.

“As I should,” said Yen. “Which will be a handicap, but we know he’s attracted to my body type. Then there’s you, whom he enjoys spending time with, but to whom he may not be physically attracted. Sounds like even odds to me.”

“Even odds of us both failing,” said Geralt. “Seriously, drop this one--if you flirt with him you’ll probably give him a heart attack.”

“Some people are turned on by fear, you know.”

“Not Jaskier.”

“You sound awfully confident.”

“I know him pretty well. We’re together all day, every day.”

“Really? Well, I guess I’ll have the chance to experience your oh-so-close friendship first hand, since I’ll be traveling with you both for the next couple weeks.”

And that was the sound of the other shoe dropping. Geralt frowned at her. She returned his glare with an innocent smile. 

“What, didn’t I tell you?” she said. “There’s a swarm of rotfiends in the mountains north of here. The noble I’m babysitting wants them gone. I told him I knew just the witcher.”

“And what makes you think I’ll accept?”

“I suppose you could turn it down,” said Yen. “Think of all those poor peasants, though—little kiddies and babes, traveling between villages with their families, when all of a sudden-”

“Alright, shut up, I accept,” said Geralt.

“It pays well, too,” said Yen. She gave him a parting wink before turning and walking over to where Jaskier was playing, her hips swaying with exaggerated seduction at every step. Jaskier eyed her nervously, and a couple sour notes worked their way into his tune.

“Fuck,” said Geralt, sighing. This was going to be a long couple weeks.

* * *

Yen was good at manipulating men. Geralt had seen it--and been subject to it--many times.

Most of the time, however, she didn’t have the handicap of years of fear and dislike to work through. To say that she was getting frustrated would be an understatement.

Geralt eyed the gathering storm clouds, and placed a restraining hand on Yen’s shoulder. “Easy,” he said.

She shrugged him off. “Just because _some_ people don’t know how to take a compliment-”

“And just how is, ‘Your crow’s feet are looking fetching today,’ a compliment?” yelled Jaskier, his voice muffled by the tree he’d taken shelter behind.

The air crackled with charge, and a small bolt of lightning struck the ground at Geralt’s feet.

“Knock it off, Yen,” he said. 

“I was trying to be nice,” she said. “I only insulted you after you did the same to me. I started off by complimenting your eyes-”

“And then there’s that! That’s weird! Why would you do that?” said Jaskier.

“-but then you returned my kind words with an insult! Copulating with a wyvern, by the way, does _not_ turn one’s eyes purple.”

“You would know,” muttered Jaskier.

Yen snarled, and the magic in the air began to vibrate. Some of the smaller rocks around their campsite started to levitate, as did a few confused looking frogs. “I was just trying to be nice!”

“But you’re not nice! You can’t be nice. You’re the anti-nice!” Jaskier shouted.

“You want nice? I’ll show you nice, you-” 

One of the floating rocks near Geralt started to crack, and he could see the frogs’ eyes beginning to bulge.

“You’ll never win the bet if you explode a frog on him,” hissed Geralt.

Yen paused. “Oh?” she said, quietly. “Interesting. Does that mean you’re accepting my bet? I'll admit, I was only teasing when I offered it, but I won't say no to taking your coin.” 

“After this display? Sure. You're on. Just stop it with the angry magic and insults. Don’t want to survive the rotfiends only to get flattened by one of your failed courting attempts.”

She frowned, but the air calmed, and the frogs and rocks slowly settled back onto the ground. “I didn’t mean to scare him,” she said. “He’s being unreasonable, though. All I did was say his eyes looked nice, and then he snapped at me. Who doesn’t like being told their eyes look nice?”

Geralt sighed. “That’s the problem. He’s a poet. Don’t expect a generic compliment to work, not after years of tailored insults.”

“So he wants something genuine.” She looked thoughtful.

“Or at least more creative.”

Jaskier poked his head out from behind the tree and glared at them suspiciously. “What are you whispering about? Is it about me?”

“Yes,” said Yen. “We were discussing how I should best apologize to you.”

Jaskier didn’t look convinced. If anything, he retreated slightly further behind his cover. “Sure you were. I’ll accept your apology from here, if it’s all the same to you.”

Yen nodded. The smile she gave him was friendly, but it had a self-deprecating twist to it that Geralt hadn’t seen before. 

“I truly am sorry, Jaskier,” she said. “It’s easy to fall into sparring words when one is talking with such a worthy opponent. I’d meant to break that cycle with a compliment, but I came to you with such a weak peace offering that it was an insult in itself. Next time I’ll bring as much energy and focus to pointing out your attributes as I have to pointing out your flaws. It’ll be easier--there’s far more to admire about you than there is to denigrate.”

“Oh,” said Jaskier. “Um. Okay. Thanks?”

Yen gave him a smile, another of those horribly vulnerable looking ones, then turned and left the campsite. 

Jaskier waited a few minutes to make sure she was really gone, then sidled up to Geralt. 

“Is she cursed or something?” he asked.

Geralt frowned at the patch of forest she’d disappeared into. Up until that last bit, he’d felt fairly certain that she’d strike out with Jaskier, even if Geralt did nothing. Now, though…

He should have known better than to underestimate Yen. If he really did want Jaskier--and the more he thought about it, the more he had to admit that he did--then he’d have to act.

Yen might have the advantage of being an immortal beauty, but Geralt had the advantage of familiarity. And if Jaskier’s pale face was anything to go by, now was the time for comfort and rest.

“With her? Who would know,” Geralt said. “No use worrying about it tonight.” 

He brought Jaskier a flask, then restarted the fire that had been blown out by Yen’s tantrum. Within the hour Jaskier was happily strumming away at his lute and testing out verses to a new song. 

If it was possible at all for Geralt to win--if there was even a small part of Jaskier that was interested in him--than he could win this. He _could_. He had to. Losing a hundred orens wasn’t the end of the world, but losing Jaskier’s touch, and potentially his heart…

That thought was more difficult to stomach than Geralt had thought it would be. 

* * *

If Yen had gotten off to a bad start, she made up for it the next few days. She was kind, thoughtful, and engaging--and Jaskier seemed equal parts charmed and unsettled.

“Geralt, I really do think she’s under some kind of spell,” Jaskier whispered as Yen cast warmth spells on all of them and their horses--rendering Geralt's previous gift of a blanket moot. She’d spent the past few hours engaging Jaskier in debate on the literary merits of the most famous songwriters of the past hundred years. She'd known some of them personally, and Jaskier, despite himself, had clearly been having a good time. 

“She’s fine,” said Geralt. 

“She’s acting weird.”

“Because she is weird.”

“Now, Geralt, is that anyway to treat the person who just saved you from frostbite?” said Yennifer sweetly from behind him.

Jaskier jumped guiltily and shied away from her. Geralt just glared.

“And Jaskier,” she continued, “I appreciate your concern, but the only spell I’m under is the one you cast with your beautiful songs and clever conversation.”

Jaskier stared at her with wide, disbelieving eyes as she rode around them and took the lead on the trail.

“Seriously,” he said to Geralt, “I think we need to get help.”

* * *

Geralt was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a quitter. As Yen stepped up her attempts to engage Jaskier’s intellect, Geralt did his best to pamper Jaskier physically. He’d heard the bard’s complaints often enough to have a good idea of what he did and didn’t like.

At first Jaskier had been too off-balance from Yen’s flirtations to notice. As the end of their first week together approached, however, he started to do double takes and stutter as Geralt went above and beyond his normal bard-watching duties. 

“Thank you,” he said slowly when Geralt brought him his favorite blanket--the blue, fluffy woolen one--from the saddle bags and wrapped him in it. “Are you feeling alright?”

Geralt shrugged and sat down next to him. “Sure,” he said. He started the cooking fire with a quick igni and began prepping the hare he’d caught earlier.

“It’s just that you’ve been acting a bit strange, too…”

“I’m fine,” Geralt said. 

“Not as fine as you, of course,” said Yen, smirking at Jaskier from the other side of the fire. 

“Er,” said Jaskier, and scooted closer to Geralt. Geralt shot Yen a triumphant grin.

“Should be able to start dinner soon,” said Geralt. “Hare’s one of your favorites, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Jaskier.

Geralt nodded. “Good. You can have its flank.”

“Oh.” Jaskier blinked. “Thanks.”

“But who wants to chew on plain hare? I have herbs and vegetables--preserved fresh through magical means--to turn it into a proper dinner. Nothing keeps a body warm on a night like this quite like a hearty stew,” said Yen. 

“Really? Oh, that does sound good,” said Jaskier, his eyes lighting up. It was Yen’s turn to shoot Geralt a grin. 

“Do you even know any recipes?” said Geralt. “Never pictured you as the domestic sort.”

“Normally I’d say that I never pictured you as the sort to prep an animal for cooking--somehow, I always imagined you eating it raw--but butchering is rather what you’re known for, isn't it?”

Geralt snarled at her, and threw his arm around Jaskier’s shoulders. She could talk all she wanted, but at the end of the day she was on the other side of the fire. Jaskier was here--nestled against _his_ side. _He_ was winning. 

“Geralt! Dammit, what was that for? You got rabbit guts on my doublet!” Jaskier wriggled out of his grasp.

“Sorry.”

“This was my favorite doublet!”

Geralt sighed. “Then why did you wear it on a rotfiend hunt? You know they explode, right?”

“They explode?”

“Don’t worry, I can shield you with magic,” said Yen. She crossed to their side of the fire and sat down on Jaskier’s other side.

She was close now--too close. Geralt scooted in as well.

“Can magic do anything about these stains?” said Jaskier irritably, picking at his clothing. 

“Perhaps. Let me see,” said Yen, even though the answer was clearly yes (she could summon storms and cast shields around cities--of course she could clean a shirt) and she took the opportunity to lean even closer. She pressed her hands against his chest, rubbing them slowly, thoughtfully, over the stains.

“You’re being dramatic.The stains aren’t that bad,” said Geralt. “A little soap and water would do just fine.”

“Not that bad? There’s a bit of intestine stuck in his collar,” said Yen, pointing.

“Don’t need magic to fix that,” said Geralt. He reached over and removed the offending organ. And, because he wasn’t going to let Yen outdo him, he let his hand linger, caressing Jaskier’s neck.

“Erk,” choked Jaskier. 

“Come on, take your shirt off. I’ll wash it in the stream for you,” said Geralt.

“He’ll freeze,” said Yen. 

“He can borrow my clothes.”

“Um,” said Jaskier. 

“Magic would do a better job. There’s no need to have him prancing around in your sweat-soaked rags. I have to warn you, Jaskier--my magic may tingle, just a little. Don’t worry, though. I’m told it’s immensely pleasurable.”

Yen moved one of her hands that had been rubbing Jaskier’s chest to his thigh.

Geralt growled, and did the same.

And okay, maybe he should have let go of the rabbit intestine first, but Jaskier seemed to have larger concerns than the new stains on his leggings.

“Alright, well, it’s been a wonderful evening, not weird or alarming at all, but I think I’m going to call it a night!” he said, jumping up. He began to back away from them.

“What about dinner?” asked Geralt.

“I’m too tired! Sorry! Going to head to bed instead!”

“All alone?” asked Yen. “You know, these mountain nights get awfully cold. My tent has much better insulation-”

“Your tent is a cave. Mine would be warmer--or at least, it would be if it had the heat from two bodies in it,” said Geralt. 

Jaskier made a strangled noise, then turned and flat out ran for his tent.

Yen and Geralt both watched as he tripped, entered the tent at a frantic crawl, and then tied it up from the inside, using all the ties and shoving his travel pack against the flap, putting as many barriers between himself and them as possible.

“Dammit,” said Yen, quietly. 

Geralt nodded. “Yeah.” Then, “Can I stay in your tent tonight? It actually is the warmer one.”

* * *

They finished making the stew first because it was actually really cold out, and it had been a long day of riding.

Geralt left a bowl of it outside Jaskier’s tent. 

He and Yen ate their bowls inside the comfort of her tent--and really, all three of them should have been eating in there all along. The fire was nice, but it was nothing compared to the balmy air and plush furniture that Yen had.

“Don’t get soup on the sheets,” said Yen irritably as Geralt took a seat on the bed.

“Why? Thought your magic was great at getting stains out.” He glared at her.

“Oh please, don’t give me that look. You’ve been traveling with him for ages. You can’t blame me for taking a shot after you spent a solid decade with your head up your ass.”

“The hell I can’t.” Geralt gestured at her angrily with his spoon. “You only went for him after I told you _I_ wanted him. You don’t even like him.”

“Excuse me? Do you really think I’m so desperate that I’d pursue a man I don’t even like? And stop gesturing with your utensils--I saw that splatter.” 

“You’re not desperate, just difficult.”

She snarled, and the temperature in the tent dropped a little, but just in the vicinity of Geralt’s bowl. His next bite was ice cold. 

“Hey!”

“I’m not being difficult! Well, I’m not only being difficult. I also like him.”

“Since when? Since I told you he had a big dick?”

“That’s a bit hypocritical of you, considering your timing in all this,” she said.

Geralt growled at her. “You really think I’m just after his body? You think I’ve traveled with him for this long just because he has a nice ass?”

“Ha! You have been staring at it, then.”

“Like you haven’t. But he’s more than a piece of ass, and he’s more than a silver tongue. He’s brave--”

“Dangerously so. He’ll get hurt if he doesn’t learn some self-preservation.”

“--and trusting--”

“Bordering on gullible. He needs to be more careful.”

“--and has a warm heart.”

“Too warm. He wears his heart on his sleeve, where anything could happen to it.”

Geralt nodded. “And anything does happen to it. It gets broken, over and over, but for some reason he still puts it out there.”

“You think it would get calloused or cold, but it doesn’t,” said Yen, sighing. “I don’t know whether it’s naivete or courage.”

“A mix of both, probably. That’s Jaskier for you,” said Geralt. 

“Tell me about it! To him, the world is romantic, and tragic, and awe-inspiring, and big--big in a way it hasn’t been to me since I was a girl. When I listen to him, half of me is transported back to a time when magic seemed...well, magical, and the other half of me wants to roll my eyes at how child-like it all is.”

“I thought the wonder would disappear after a couple monster hunts,” admitted Geralt. “Figured one good look at the gritty side of life would bring him down to earth.”

“But it didn’t”

“No, it didn’t. I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

They sat in silence for a moment, finishing the dregs of the stew.

“I think,” said Yen, eventually, “that it’s because his wonder isn’t based on the absence of reality. He sees life’s shadows, but for him that only serves to throw its lights into higher contrast.”

“And then he takes that world view, and gifts it to people for the length of a song,” said Geralt.

“The night always seems lighter when he’s there,” agreed Yen.

They slept tucked together that night by unspoken agreement. It wasn’t cold in the tent, but there was a comfort to being in someone's arms. And if it didn’t stave off the darkness quite as much as either of them wished...well. Their hearts were both hard enough to handle a bit of disappointment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mildly sad cliff hanger! But it ends happy! I promise!
> 
> The comments and support on this fic have made my week so much brighter. Thank you everyone, you all rock so freaking much <3\. Also, I recently put twitter on my phone--so I might actually use it now--and I'd love to follow more people in the witcher fandom! I'm @prudabaga--let me know your twitter handles if you want so I can follow peeps :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for you kind comments and kudos!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They give me life <3

They woke tangled together, Geralt’s nose pressed into Yen’s hair, her thigh between his legs, his cock hard against her. She was already wet, and when they fucked, it was slower and more intense than usual. 

Overall, not a terrible way to start the morning--at least, until Geralt exited the tent to find Jaskier gone.

“Fuck,” said Geralt. “Yen! Get out here.”

Geralt saddled up Roach, his eyes scanning the camp for clues. There were no signs of a struggle, and the only fresh footprints were Jaskier’s. They were lighter than usual, almost as if he’d been tip-toeing, and led from his tent over to where Yen’s stallion was tied.

Had been tied.

“He took your horse!” Geralt called. Yen emerged from the tent, took in the bard’s absence, and jumped onto the saddle behind Geralt without his having to ask.

It didn’t take a witcher’s senses to see which way Jaskier had gone--broken branches and hoofprints practically painted arrows through the forest. That was good news, in that Geralt wasn’t having any trouble tracking him, and bad news, in that neither would any monsters. Between that and all the noise Jaskier would have made crashing through the underbrush, he might as well have painted a target on his back.

“Shit,” said Geralt, and urged Roach faster. 

“Do you think he was lured away?” asked Yen. “Or put under a spell? I know some sorceresses who wouldn’t hesitate to use him against me.”

“Don’t know,” said Geralt. “Can you speed us up with magic?”

She could. Within ten minutes they’d covered twice the amount of ground they would have normally, though the effort of it left Yen breathing raggedly in his ear and the magic was making Roach twitchy. 

It did the trick, though. Soon, Geralt could hear voices. 

“I think that’s him,” said Geralt, drawing his sword. “Up ahead. Is that-”

“I sense magic,” said Yen, and she tensed, ready for battle.

The scene they burst in on, however, wasn’t quite what Geralt had been expecting.

Jaskier was sitting in the middle of a clearing, holding a porcelain teacup and looking very comfortable on top of a pile of cushions. Beside him sat Triss. She didn’t look like she’d enchanted him. If anything, she looked like she was making him some more tea. 

“See what I mean? They’re out of control!” said Jaskier, gesturing at them wildly. 

“They did just trample that lovely bed of wildflowers,” said Triss, a tad reproachfully. “Hello Yennefer.”

“Triss,” said Yen, inclining her head slightly.

“Jaskier, dammit, we thought you’d been kidnapped,” said Geralt. “Why would you run off like that?”

“To get help!” said Jaskier. He held up Yen’s Xenovox proudly. 

Triss held hers up as well. “Got a call at the crack of dawn,” she said. “He stole your horse to get at this, then ran and called me in a panic, asking me to portal in and break the curse.”

“Curse?” asked Yen. “Jaskier, what-”

“The love spell!”

Both Geralt and Yen stared at him. 

“Um,” said Geralt, awkwardly. “Jaskier…”

“It started off light--complimenting my eyes, bringing me blankets when I was cold, that sort of thing,” Jaskier told Triss. “They could probably have resisted its compulsion at that point, but I don’t think they realized they were being affected. But recently it’s been getting stronger, more urgent. Last night they were like wild animals fighting over me!”

He pressed his hand to heart dramatically, pausing his story as Triss was apparently overcome with a fit of coughing.

“Do you think it might be a fuck or die situation?” he asked when she’d regained her breath. “I’ve heard of those. I’m willing to take one for the team, of course, if you’re unable to lift the spell.”

“Jaskier,” said Geralt, again.

“Geralt, Yen, I hope you’ll forgive yourselves if it comes to that,” said Jaskier seriously. He dropped his cup to the ground and stood up, reaching over to grasp their hands with his own. “Just know that you won’t be taking me unwillingly. You may have to take turns--I am but one man--but I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

“Jaskier! Dammit, Triss, you’re not helping. Stop laughing and talk some sense into him,” snapped Geralt. Then: “Wait, you wouldn’t be unwilling?”

Jaskier stared at him. “What? Of course not. You didn’t notice?”

“Notice what?”

Jaskier threw his hands up in the air. “That I’m interested! That night with the bath--I thought I’d made a fool of myself!”

“What do you mean?”

“Halfway through the massage--the very sensual massage, I’d like to point out, during which I was naked, covered in oil, and giving you bedroom eyes--I told you I was loose enough, then said I was moving to the bed. And you just walked out,” said Jaskier. “Clearly I was expecting something more. I thought you were rejecting me!”

“I just thought you were tired,” said Geralt, shrugging.

Yen and Jaskier gave him twin incredulous looks. 

“You see what I’m working with, here?” said Yen.

Jaskier nodded, his eyes wide. “Geralt, are you telling me that I’ve been beating myself up for weeks, thinking I’d ruined our friendship, and you _didn’t even notice_? Is it really possible for someone to be so observant--seriously, I’ve seen you track week old hoof prints in the pouring rain--and yet be so oblivious?” 

“Sorry,” said Geralt. “Guess I missed the signs."

“How? I wrote an entire song about your cock! I was not subtle!”

“Oh, I’ve heard that one!” said Triss. “It’s catchy.”

“Thanks,” said Jaskier, looking miserable. 

Yen dismounted Roach and gave Jaskier a comforting hug. “Did you know that one time I dressed up in lingerie and waited for him on his bed as a surprise? He walked in, took one look at me working myself open with my fingers, said, ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ and then left.”

“That’s so Geralt,” said Jaskier, sadly. 

“I had to finish myself off.”

“There, there,” said Jaskier, patting her shoulder.

“I may have left a surprise for him in his potions belt after that.”

“That was you?” said Geralt. “Dammit, Yen. I thought I’d mixed something wrong. My Swallow potion turned my skin blue for weeks!” 

He turned to Triss, looking for support, only to find her sipping tea and watching their exchange with obvious enjoyment.

“Triss, back me up here. It’s not okay to do that to someone, right?”

“What, leave them hanging?” she said, innocently.

“Turning them blue! I wasn’t able to turn in any of my contracts. The villagers kept running me out of town, shouting something about enchanted syphilis.”

“To be fair, under most circumstances it probably is best for them to keep a distance from people who turn bright blue overnight,” said Yen. “And if I happened to warn them in advance about a virulent strain with those symptoms, well…”

Triss was openly laughing now. Geralt glared at her.

“Triss, go home,” he said.

“Wait, no!” Jaskier jumped out of Yen’s embrace. “What about the love spell?”

“Should I tell him, or should you?” Triss said, wiping tears from her eyes. “Wait, no. I take it back. I want to tell him.”

“Tell me what?” 

“Well, Jaskier,” she said, her face suddenly serious, though still tinged pink from laughter. “They are cursed, I’m afraid.”

“Triss,” said Yen, warningly. 

“A ‘fuck or die’ curse?” said Jaskier, his face an equal mix of dread and hope.

“Worse. A ‘hopeless at communicating their emotions’ curse. Have either of you actually told Jaskier you’re interested in him? Or did you skip straight to groping?”

“I brought him a rabbit first,” said Geralt. 

“That only counts as telling someone you like them if you’re a literal wolf,” said Triss. “Now, as much as I hate to miss the show, it might be best if I leave you guys to have a nice, long talk about your feelings.”

Geralt had never been so happy to be ambushed by rotfiends as he was in that moment. 

* * *

“Wow,” said Jaskier, a few minutes later. “You weren’t kidding. They really do explode.”

Jaskier hadn’t gotten any of the toxic sludge splattered on him--Yennefer had seen to that with her magical shield--but Geralt hadn’t been so lucky. Rotting innards hung from his hair and armor, and the odor was, well, strong.

“ _Really_ glad it’s not a fuck-or-die curse, now,” said Jaskier, wrinkling his nose.

Geralt glared at him.

“Of course, I was already glad, because of consent issues and all that,” Jaskier hurried to add.

Yen sighed. “Geralt, you smell like ass. Take off your clothes before the stench makes me vomit. Triss, stop waiting for Geralt to take off his clothes, and go home.”

Triss muttered something that may have been, ‘spoil sport’, then vanished her conjured cushions and tea set, and started summoning a portal. 

With both Triss and Yen there, the fight against the rotfiends had been almost unfairly easy. Triss had ripped the first wave of them apart with vines while Yen had incinerated others with a casual wave of her hand, leaving only a couple for Geralt to kill. He wasn’t even winded. The poor, rotten bastards had never stood a chance. 

Jaskier, who had only ever seen Yen’s magic in the context of the Djinn disaster, was staring at her with a newfound respect. Geralt would bet his swords that there’d be a ballad about her circulating taverns within the month. 

Hopefully it was respectful and not raunchy. Geralt knew Yen wouldn’t hurt Jaskier--she was too fond of him--but patrons who might sing along probably wouldn’t be so lucky.

Geralt stripped off his outer layers of armor and used his fingers to comb the worst of the gunk out of his hair. The rest would have to wait until he could get to some water. He said as much to Yen, who rolled her eyes.

“You know, if you just let me use magic-”

“No.”

“But-”

“I broke out in hives the last time you did that. Soap and water will be enough.”

Jaskier chose to ride back behind Yen on her horse, which wasn’t surprising given Geralt’s current state. What was surprising, though, was the way he held her hips--almost tenderly--and the way he kept looking at her, his face soft and full of surprise.

“So was what Triss said true? You actually like me?” Jaskier asked her after a couple minutes. 

“You’ve got a sharp wit, which is rare, and a good heart, which is even rarer. I’d be a fool not to.”

“I like you too,” called Geralt from his mandated ten feet downwind.

“Yes, yes, I already know that. You’ve been staring at my ass for weeks,” said Jaskier. 

“What? Have not.”

Jaskier turned to give him a disbelieving stare. "Every time we’d change clothes I’d catch you ogling me.”

“I wasn’t trying to look at your ass. I was trying to see your-” Geralt cut himself off, realizing that there was really nowhere good that sentence could go. “Well, the only reason you caught me looking was because you were looking at me, too.”

“Yes. I was. Because I’m attracted to you. And since you were clearly attracted to me too, but ran away the second things got intimate-”

“I really did think you just wanted to go to sleep,” said Geralt.

“-I figured you had some idiotic reason for avoiding a relationship.”

“Not an idiotic reason, just an idiotic witcher,” said Yennefer cheerfully.

Geralt flipped her off. 

Yen laughed and spurred her horse further ahead of him. She and Jaskier continued to chatter about various things--Jaskier had played for some of the nobles Yen had served, it turned out, and they had quite a bit of gossip to trade--until they got back to camp.

When they arrived, Geralt pulled Roach up close alongside them just to see Yen gag. “I’m going to go take a bath,” he muttered.

“Please do,” she said. “And don’t rush on our account. I’m sure we’ll manage to entertain ourselves without you.”

* * *

It took an hour in the icy river and two full bars of soap to kill the smell. By the time Geralt was done, he was losing feeling in his fingers, and where his skin wasn’t bright red from the scrubbing it was starting to turn blue from the cold. 

The campfire was unlit when he returned to camp. Yen and Jaskier were nowhere to be seen--or smelled, or heard--and there was only one place nearby that was magically sealed to his senses. 

Geralt headed towards Yen’s tent, dread knotting his stomach. 

Yen was interested in Jaskier, and now that Jaskier knew, and seemed to feel some sort of reciprocation, there was nothing keeping the two of them apart. 

Which was fine. More than fine, even--it was great. If two of his friends, both amazing people, got together and brought each other happiness, that would be a good thing. He could be happy for them without being jealous. He could. He’d just need some time to adjust, that’s all. 

He wished that damn tent wasn’t magicked--if he could hear them, he could either walk in and join the conversation, or, if they were fucking, take his leave for a few hours until they’d finished and he’d had a chance to cool down. 

But it was magicked, and since it was Yennefer, magicked well. The only way to find out what they were doing was to walk in there and see for himself. 

He gritted his teeth, squared his shoulders, and opened the tent flap.

The wave of smell hit him first--equal parts lust and sweat. There was the heady, familiar aroma of Yen’s arousal, and a sharper, muskier smell that could only be Jaskier in the throes of passion.

They were on the bed, Yen astride Jaskier, her hips moving slowly. She was facing the entrance, and, on seeing Geralt, she grinned.

“You owe me a hundred orens,” she said. “And by the way--he feels even more amazing than he looks.” She ground her hips down for emphasis, and Jaskier let out a moan.

“I’ll have it for you after we turn in the rotfiend contract,” said Geralt distantly. He felt like his heart was being stepped on by a troll, but he couldn’t look away. From where he was standing he had the perfect view: Yen stretched to her limits, tight around Jaskier’s girth; Jaskier’s head thrown back in pleasure, eyes closed, mouth open and panting; his hands grasped on her hips; her breasts, bouncing with each thrust. And the sounds Jaskier was making…

It was the most erotic thing Geralt had ever seen. 

He tried to say sorry for intruding, tried to say that he was leaving, but all that came out was a strangled grunt. 

“A hundred oren? What?” gasped Jaskier. His eyes fluttered open and locked on Geralt. 

“Don’t worry about it,” said Yen soothingly, patting his chest. 

“Were you guys betting on who would bed me?” Jaskier’s hips stilled. “That’s not what all this was about, was it?”

“It was a bet over who would bed you _first_ ,” said Yen. She rocked over him, and Jaskier started moving again with a gasp. 

“The coin wasn’t important. The real prize was winning you,” Geralt said. 

Jaskier gave him a starry eyed look. “I knew it! You _are_ chivalrous. You were fighting for my heart!” 

“Yes, among other things,” said Yen.

“And I lost,” said Geralt. Saying the words out loud snapped him out of his daze, and he was able to lower his eyes. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

“For fuck’s sake, you really are oblivious sometimes,” said Yen. 

“Ha!” said Jaskier. He grinned at Geralt. “She thought you might be tempted into making a move if we put on a show, but I told her--well, bet her--that you’d need your invitation to be explicitly spelled out.”

“Invitation?” said Geralt.

“Yes, fine, I’ll pay you after Geralt pays me,” said Yen. She glared at Geralt. “If someone walks in on me while I’m with a lover, and I don’t want them to be there, I tell them to get the hell out. I don’t carry on a conversation with them.”

Geralt took a step closer, his heart in his throat. “Are you saying-”

“I’m saying that I like you. Jaskier likes you,” said Yen. “You like us both. Me and Jaskier are hitting it off pretty well-”

“Pretty damn well,” agreed Jaskier, sounding strangled.

“-so get your ass over here already. Besides, do you have any idea how long I’ve been trying to keep him from coming? You took a really long bath. When I told you to take your time, I didn’t expect you to take all night.”

“There were a lot of guts to clean off,” said Geralt weakly. 

“Less talk about monster guts, more getting naked,” said Jaskier. 

Geralt walked towards the bed, his fingers scrabbling at his lacing--not very effectively, judging by the way Yen rolled her eyes and got off Jaskier to come help.

“Are you a child? Boots off first, then pants,” she said, pulling his shirt over his head while Jaskier worked on his pants’ lacing. As soon as his clothes were off, he found himself being pulled onto the bed, his thighs straddling Jaskier. Yen moved to cradle Jaskier’s head in her lap, her hands toying with his hair while she smirked at Geralt.

Jaskier’s hands came up to Geralt’s hips, his eyes wide and full of awed disbelief as he began to cautiously stroke them up over Geralt's chest and down over his thighs. 

“You’re softer than I thought you’d be,” Jaskier whispered, fingers teasing at the odd scar. “Like iron wrapped in silk…”

“Add verses to your raunchy ballad later,” said Yen. “Geralt, you’re allowed to touch, too.”

Geralt hesitated, his hands hovering indecisively for a moment, before reaching out to caress one of those pink, pert nipples that had been teasing him for so long…

Jaskier yelped. “Nope! Nope, nevermind, no, you’re not allowed to touch. What were you doing, soaking your hands in ice water?”

“And soap,” said Geralt.

“Ok, I’ll handle the touching for now,” said Yen. “And next time, warm up the water with some igni before you bathe in it. You’re going to end up freezing bits off that both me and Jaskier would rather you keep intact.”

She moved her hands from Jaskier’s hair to his chest, tweaking his nipples playfully. Jaskier jerked, his cock brushing against Geralt with the movement.

Geralt looked down, and swallowed. “I’m going to need that massage oil.”

“You know, I have a spell that would help prepare you,” said Yen.

“Don’t you dare.”

“It would be faster-”

“And since when have you valued speed in the bedroom?” said Geralt.

Yen sighed. “You want to run around the campsite naked, searching for your oil? Fine. Whatever floats your boat.”

* * *

Geralt found his oil and prepared himself in record time, though he had to admit that maybe Jaskier had a point about the temperature of his fingers. 

It was worth it, though, to sink down and feel Jaskier’s cock stretching him wide, to hear Jaskier’s breath hitch, to see Jaskier’s face twist with the effort of staying still while Geralt adjusted. 

“Gods, Geralt, you’re tight,” he gasped, his hands gripping Geralt’s hips. 

Geralt shifted, getting himself used to Jaskier’s size, then started moving. Slowly at first, then, as Jaskier started moaning and thrusting up into him, faster and harder.

Yen was right. Jaskier felt even better than he looked. Especially when Geralt tilted his hips just so, and Jaskier hit that sweet spot…

Geralt cried out, and an echoing cry--softer and higher pitched than Jaskier’s--startled him into opening his eyes.

When had he closed them? He couldn’t quite remember, but clearly doing so had been a mistake, because it meant he’d been missing the sight of Yen watching them. Her eyes were dark and hungry, and as she watched her hands moved between her thighs. He could see one slick finger circling around her clit while another teased in and out of her.

“You said join you, not replace you,” Geralt reminded her.

She grinned. “I’ll join back in. Just enjoying the view first.”

“Why not do both at once?” said Jaskier breathlessly. “You’re always telling me how much you like my silver tongue…” 

Jaskier’s ideas were always the best--the ones about getting involved with married women notwithstanding--Geralt decided as Yen straddled Jaskier’s face. Jaskier nuzzled up into her, his mouth working, and Yen made a noise Geralt hadn’t known she was capable of. Then she made it again, and again, and when they took a break for the night Geralt was going to demand Jaskier give him some instruction. Or a demonstration. 

Geralt was leaning towards the latter. He’d always been a hands on learner. 

For now, though, he contented himself with reaching out and pulling Yen’s face towards him, and swallowing her cries with a kiss. She returned the kiss with a passionate, bruising force that only intensified when he cupped her breasts and began to thumb at her nipples.

When they broke off the kiss--as much for air as for anything--she was wearing the biggest smile, her face flushed and bright and beautiful.

“Double or nothing: you come first,” she said.

“Hm. You’re on. Jaskier will be first,” Geralt said.

“Mmmph,” said Jaskier.

“It’s rude to talk with your mouth full,” said Yen. She was laughing, and Geralt felt himself grinning in response. 

It wasn’t really about the coin--it never had been--but he was damned if he was going to lose twice in a row.

* * *

In the end, Jaskier insisted that he’d won, though no one was able to verify that his garbled response had actually been him betting on Yen coming first. They decided to settle it by seeing who could give the best oral--a bet that was clearly stacked in Jaskier’s favor, though neither Geralt nor Yen had protested when Jaskier suggested it. 

By the time they got to the noble’s house, Geralt was thousands of orens in debt to the both of them and weak at the knees from the pleasure of it all.

“I need this for necessities on the road,” Geralt said when he collected his reward for the rotfiends. “If you want to collect, you may have to tag along for a while.”

“I suppose it would be rude not to allow you a chance to win back your coin,” said Yen.

“Exactly!” said Jaskier. “You’ll climb back into the black, Geralt. You just have to keep trying. Again and again. I’m up for it if you two are.”

They were.

* * *

Geralt had always hated losing. But, as Jaskier and Yen headed back onto the path with him, he decided that maybe it was something he could learn to enjoy.


End file.
